It is hard to be pretentious especially when you try to be something or someone that’s literally the opposite thing of what you are.
This is a memory. This is a tie. This is a connection. That even time and distance can’t break.
Life is a one-shot story. No sequels. No remakes.
Maybe it’s my fault to anticipate. It’s my fault to believe. It’s my fault to keep my hope in spite of you telling me, “Stop. I don’t like you anymore.”
I’m afraid to have you, but I’m also afraid to leave you. I’m left hanging but I still fell in love with you.
I can give you the rest of the history.
I wish I just can stop my eyes from seeing the world for this is what makes me weak.